Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
T he next day, Esme woke alone. Luke had stayed with her the night before, but he had been distracted and had spoken about Lewis almost non-stop. He had seemed in awe of the fire ceremony and Esme hadn’t felt able to question its validity with him. It had meant a slightly strained dialogue before they had gone to sleep. Now, she realised he must have got up early and left before she had woken up. There was a note on his bedside table, confirming this, but it didn’t allay her feeling of foreboding. ‘Gone to see Lewis. Didn’t want to disturb you.’ There was a kiss after the last word, but it didn’t do much to ease Esme’s mind. When had they stopped being a team?
Esme dressed quickly and went downstairs to make tea. The sun was pouring through the kitchen window like it was rehearsing for spring. There were snowdrops in the garden, heralding its coming, and buds appearing on branches. The sea was covered in sparkles from the sunlight and she realised it was later than she had assumed. Her phone buzzed. It was Luke, telling her that he was going to check the causeway.
Esme wanted to ask if Lewis was going to be with him, but thought it best to assume so. If she asked, she might sound judgemental.
She poured her tea into her insulated travel cup, put food down for Jet, who was nowhere to be seen, and headed to the causeway. She met Luke and Lewis as they appeared from Tobias’s house. Luke kissed her cheek and took her hand. Lewis greeted her with impeccable friendliness and Esme didn’t know why it made her hackles rise.
Before they had reached the place where the road joined the island, Esme could see that the tide had receded and the causeway was open.
‘You did it!’ Luke said to Lewis. He dropped Esme’s hand to punch his brother lightly on the arm. ‘You bloody did it!’
‘We all did it,’ Lewis said. ‘It was a group effort.’
‘Nah, it was your idea.’ Luke grinned at Esme. ‘He’ll have a place now, won’t he? After this?’
‘I told you. The tide was receding anyway…’ Esme caught sight of Lewis’s expression and stopped speaking. There was something dangerous in his eyes. A warning.
‘It was the ceremony,’ Luke said. ‘I don’t know how he knew what to do, but it’s a good sign, isn’t it?’
Luke looked so happy. Lewis was watching her shrewdly. Esme swallowed. ‘It’s up to—’
‘The community, yeah,’ Luke interrupted. ‘But we all want him. It’s just the island left and it’s got to be happy with him now. You saw the fire last night and now this…’ He gestured to the causeway.
‘I know you don’t exactly speak to the wards,’ Lewis said earnestly, ‘but it would be great if you could see how they feel. See if the island will let me stay. I really feel as if I’ve got a role here.’ He ducked his head and seemed utterly sincere, but there was a shard of ice in Esme’s heart.
‘How do you know about the wards?’
‘Luke told me,’ Lewis said, as if it was obvious. Which, of course, it was.
‘You don’t mind?’ Luke asked, frowning. ‘After what he did with the ritual and everything. It seemed right.’
‘No,’ Esme said automatically. ‘It’s fine.’ Did Luke not realise that the ritual had been a nonsense? That the flames had changed colour because Lewis had got Seren to throw something into it? Borax turned flames green, and she was sure there was something else that would produce blue, too. Copper chloride maybe?
Luke took her hand again. ‘It’s a beautiful day.’
‘I think we’ll have visitors,’ Lewis said, shading his eyes and looking toward the mainland. ‘Should make good money in the shop today.’
‘Lewis is going to help me out,’ Luke said. ‘So if you need a hand with your paintings, I’ll be able to pop over later.’
Esme had mentioned needing help to hang one of her larger pieces in the hallway. It was taking up room in her studio and she had hopes a tourist might fall in love with it. They usually went for smaller pieces, stuff that was easy to carry, but you never knew. And she could offer to have it delivered to the customer after. They might have forgotten they bought it and have a bit of a surprise, but hopefully it would be a good one.
‘Lewis is going to work in the bookshop?’
‘Wherever I can be useful,’ Lewis said.
At that moment, the sun went behind clouds and the air temperature dropped by a few degrees. The sea went from sparkling blue to forbidding grey.
Luke hunched his shoulders against the chill. ‘We should head back. Open up.’ He turned and began walking in the direction of the village.
Esme trailed behind the brothers and fretted.
The day after, The Rising Moon was full of tourists. It was always a shock when the new season began after the quiet of winter. Usually it was a good shock. Seeing fresh faces and hearing different voices made a nice change. It reminded the islanders that they were part of a larger world and the renewed sense of ‘us and them’ buried any small resentments that had begun to build over the long, cold months.
Seren was a blur of movement, carrying plates from the kitchen, taking orders and clearing tables. She had tied her red checked shirt in a knot at her waist and had matching red lipstick. She seemed more vibrant, more alive, than usual. Actually smiling at the tourists, even when they asked whether the mushrooms in the venison casserole were organic.
‘Busy,’ Esme said, when Seren arrived at her table. ‘Do you need a hand?’
‘Euan’s in the kitchen,’ Seren said. ‘But thanks.’
‘Shall I move to the back room?’ Esme was conscious that she had just sat at a table that could seat three, four at a push, and another couple had just walked into the pub, looking in vain for an empty table.
‘Lewis is in there,’ Seren said and moved away as if that was a complete sentence.
Esme got up from her table and gestured to the couple to take it.
‘Are you sure?’ one of the women asked. She had a broad, kind face, very suntanned.
Her partner put her bag onto the chair. ‘Thanks.’ She looked at the blackboard. ‘Any recommendations? I don’t know what to have.’
‘No problem,’ Esme said. ‘The fish and chips are amazing.’
The back room of the pub held an ancient Space Invaders machine and a dartboard. It usually had seating scattered around the edge, so that people had room to play. There was a decently sized table that lived tucked into the corner. The same table that had been used to hold Alvis’s body for her wake. When the pub was very busy, Seren brought in a few small tables from storage and set them up as extra dining spaces. It had happened twice in Esme’s memory.
Walking into the room, Esme found the large table had been set up in the middle of the room. Having already thought about Alvis, it was hard not to think about the last time she had seen it in that position. Now, however, it wasn’t the body of the island’s old Book Keeper, it was loaded with plates and glasses.
Lewis was sat at one end of the table, making good headway on a steak and ale pie. There was a plate of fish and chips to his right and a scraped-clean plate of something else. A smear of gravy suggested the venison casserole.
‘May I join you?’
‘Sure,’ Lewis said, still chewing. He swallowed with some difficulty. ‘I don’t like eating alone.’
Esme was about to ask about the owner of the fish and chips, presuming they had just gone to the loo, when Lewis grabbed a chip from the plate and stuffed it into his mouth.
He followed this with the last piece of the pie, a large bite that made his cheeks balloon, and was pulling the fish and chips plate forward even as he chewed.
‘You’re hungry,’ Esme said. It wasn’t polite to comment on what other people ate, she knew, but the words popped out. Lewis wasn’t hungry, though. He was eating like a banqueting king. A banqueting king who hadn’t had a morsel for a week in preparation.
Seren came in at that point. ‘Know what you want?’
Esme’s appetite had fled, but she wasn’t about to insult Seren. ‘What’s the soup?’
‘Tomato and lentil. With bread, oatcakes or a cheese scone.’
‘Soup and a scone, please.’
‘Same for me,’ Lewis said, small pieces of potato flying from his mouth as he spoke. ‘I’m bloody starving here.’
Esme expected a sharp remark from Seren. She had been known to eviscerate visitors for far less. Instead, she smiled the brightest, sparkliest smile that Esme had ever seen. Her voice, when she replied ‘coming right up’, was low and warm. As she watched Seren walk out of the room, Esme realised how Seren had sounded. Sultry.
She looked at Lewis. He was a handsome man. He was identical to Luke, so of course she thought he was good-looking. But at this moment, he was not at his best. There was grease on his chin from the battered fish and he was chewing yet another enormous mouthful, his cheeks distended and a kind of stoic blankness in his eyes.
‘Are you feeling all right?’ Esme could see something was wrong and her instinct, as always, was to fix it. ‘May I touch your forehead?’
Lewis shrugged. Not bothering to waste eating time by answering her verbally.
Esme stood up and felt his forehead and the top of his head. He didn’t feel hot, but his eyes were definitely glazed. She associated that with fever or drugs or extreme tiredness.
Sitting back in her chair, Esme surveyed the table. In addition to the plates, there were several empty glasses with dregs in the bottom. She had assumed that Lewis had had lots of company before she arrived, but now she suspected they were all his. Perhaps he was drunk and that explained the glazed look.
Lewis picked up a paper napkin and wiped his face, still chewing. His eyes had come back into focus and he was watching her.
‘Did you sleep well?’
He swallowed, washing down his food with a swig of lemonade. ‘You don’t like me.’
‘I don’t know why you think that,’ Esme said evenly.
He resumed eating, but his pace was more measured, the mouthfuls more modest.
When Seren arrived with the soups, Esme realised that her shirt was knotted higher than before, showing an expanse of skin. She leaned very close to Lewis to collect some of the empty plates, and moved away with a hip-swinging walk.
Lewis watched her leave. ‘She likes me.’
His eyes flicked back to Esme. ‘Fiona likes me. Matteo likes me. Euan likes me. Luke likes me. But not you.’
‘It’s not a question of liking,’ Esme said. If he wanted directness, she could do that. She wasn’t a frightened mouse. Not anymore. ‘I don’t know you well enough to trust you. That’s nothing personal, I’m just very cautious.’
‘Trust.’ Lewis repeated, as if looking for confirmation.
She shrugged. ‘It takes time.’
Lewis smiled. ‘Time is okay. Time I can do.’